


i've been chasing my mind

by exceed



Series: half machine (at least half steam) [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Conflicted Connor, Connor Needs A Hug, Death/Suicide of OC, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Guilt, M/M, Nightmares, Obsessive thoughts, Panic Attack, Pre-Relationship, flower symbolism, with a poem and art!, yes beta i want to live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 00:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16074527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exceed/pseuds/exceed
Summary: That was him. That was what defined him. Android, RK800, deviant hunter, detective for the DPD. A machine, a deviant, two sides of a coin. He was both, he was all, he was the worst parts of what either side thought he was. He was deviant, a blight on CyberLife’s radar, a machine to the people of Jericho.He was both, and he was drowning.In which Connor wraps up a case, has a dream, and visits a friend.





	i've been chasing my mind

**Author's Note:**

> title from some song i forgot by oh wonder, i think  
> betad & looked over by the wonderful catwrites 
> 
> the poem and arts belong to me!
> 
> i enjoyed making this! big thanks to the new ERA server, word wars, and cheers for my first dbh fic!

_don’t ignore that foxglove curling out of my throat,_  
_take heed of the amaranth twisting through my fingers_  
_for each new petal is a reminder of every time i have wronged you,  
_ _digging into the wires underneath my skin with determination._  

 _if only i could show you those yellow hints of rue for each death_  
_or the ivy and gladiolus that have taken root in my heart_  
_but the only signs of my regret are the purple hyacinths  
_ _that cover my eyes in their eagerness to grow._

  _the only notes still beating in my chest_  
_are ones of frantic second-guessing,_  
_buzzing in my ears with the impulse  
__to check for that blue blood on my hands._

  _those hands will never be clean again._

 

* * *

 

The chill of the outside air nipped at him as he passed through a virtual police line, glancing around and following Hank in the afternoon light. His steps were measured- steady, even, as he pulled out a coin from his pocket, letting the token dance between his fingers as he entered the house ahead of him.

His first impression was that flowers seemed to be tucked into every corner of this house. The amount of green was, frankly, uncalled for in the middle of winter. Connor couldn’t help but think of how cared for they looked. None were dry, all vibrant and healthy, and there was no signs of a chill inside these rooms. There’s something to be said about this abode compared to where he was staying at the moment, honestly- the only plants at Hank’s house are dead ones.

“Hey, Connor! Come over here!”  
  
Speaking of Hank-

“Yes, Lieutenant! I’ll be there in a second. There’s something here that I need to check on.”

His eyes scanned the rest of the room in doubletime. Getting caught up on the aesthetic details wasn’t like him-- but there was something about it that reminded him of sleek lines, of another garden, of ebony skin and hard eyes. Reminded him of bitter cold, of crawling with a nonexistent breath caught in his throat, of the utter _panic_ racing along his spine-

_[Stress levels at 37% and rising.]_

He took a deep breath, despite not needing to. It steadied him even as his coin tricks grew faster, even as he stepped away from those memories of a time better forgotten. The plants were all different, anyways, messy and vibrant and all over the place. They weren’t the product of carefully manufactured code.

There’s thirium on the doorframe to the room Hank is in. It was small enough to not be seen by the other detective, and he pursed his lips in a decidedly _human_ manner as he walked up to examine it. He couldn’t tell much, but- hm. The news had been that the victim was killed today, and signs of a struggle would have it be fresh- this was far from it. Days old, even.

_Possible that victim hurt an android here? Days ago?_

“What did you find, Lieutenant?”  
  
“Come see for yourself, kid.”

The sight was...certainly something. A human is on the ground- killed yesterday- and it was simple enough to gather their data as he knelt next to Hank. There was dark red stains on both the human’s clothes and on the ground, and it’s with a bit of surprise that he noted the blue blood splattered on the ground and on a knife that the victim held.

There’s blood on the floor, the walls, the plants. Red is mixed with blue in a manner that makes his LED whirl scarlet for a moment. It was only the matter of a few seconds for him to end up dragging two fingers through the blue and to bring it up to his mouth-

“ _Dammit,_ kid! Don’t fuckin’ _do_ that!”

“The thirium belongs to an AP700, serial number #490 721 992. Definitely fresh, but...there’s older blood around the house.” His eyes glanced over to Hank as he lowered his fingers, still with the blue blood on them. “The human, Andrew Fisher, has no criminal record. Nothing of note except for faint traces of red ice.”

He stood back up to observe the room even as Hank made a disgruntled sound. It’s simple enough to move around and examine the scene for every detail, reconstructing it as he went. The knife, the broken part of this wall, a few knocked over plants-

There had been another knife. The human, Andrew, must have stabbed the AP700, but...his cause of death was by stabbing. There was no second knife to be found, and no direct blood besides the thirium in the knife Andrew held in a death grip. Overlaying the scene is his reconstruction, playing back- the android and the human had both gotten hits in, and--

“I’ll be right back.”

Hank only grunted as Connor stepped into the main section of the living room. He had only been through the entrance and into the first bedroom so far, and this area was just as vibrant as the rest. Pictures littered cabinets and coffee tables of the AP700 and Andrew together, grinning at the camera. Perhaps they were together? They lived together, at least. There were signs of both of them here.

It was cleverly hidden, but droplets of thirium led out to the backyard.

“Lieutenant? I’m heading out to the back! There’s a trail there!”

A curse, a sound of a flower pot breaking. “I- shit, Connor, dammit, I’ll be there in a minute! Don’t go doing insane shit without me!”

It was a shame that Connor couldn’t promise that.

He strode through the backyard, noting the more organized plant structure here. There were trees, birdfeeders, shrubs that just refused to die even as other plants were covered to protect them; one of the two loved plants and animals, that was for sure.

Connor frowned as he let a bird settle on his outstretched finger, chirping and moving around even in the cold. It was a half-second too late for him to notice the little blue LED on the side of its head, and he could only wordlessly shout as another figure burst out from the plants and pushed him to the side.

“I- Hank!” He cursed softly as the android started sprinting away, blue staining its clothes, and he could only look between the space they were fleeing and Hank before shaking his head and dashing after them. “I’m going after them, get backup!”

**{PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: FIND THE CRIMINAL >> NEUTRALIZE CRIMINAL}**

He didn’t wait for his response. He was already on the move, thirium pulsing throughout him fast enough that he could hear it, and he leaped over the fence in pursuit of the murderer as fast as he could, pre-constructing routes in his head through the area even as he thought over what he had been able to see at the house.

The android seemed happy. There was old thirium at the house. The AP700 killed the human. Pictures suggest that they could have been in a relationship?

His LED spun yellow even as he dodged a car in the street, pushing his legs faster as he started to gain on them. It was a quick curse out of his mouth as they started scaling a building once the structures grew closer together, but he followed closely.

“DPD! We just want to know what happened!”

“Fuck off, deviant hunter!”

He reeled back for a second before gritting his teeth and moving faster. His reputation was still there, even after the revolution. His programming still whispered to him about what he should be doing, what Amanda had wanted for him, what CyberLife had coded into him, his lifeblood, his mission--

He had been so, so successful until he just- couldn’t shoot.

Connor hissed through his teeth as he landed on the top of the building, launching himself back into pursuit. He was gaining on them, and there was only so far they could go. Every second he spent not running, jumping, was another second that he had no answers.

(It was another second for him to ignore the invisible blood on his hands even as he gave into his programming, embracing the tunnel vision even as another, smaller part of him started to scream.)

He stumbled even as they got to the edge of the building, ignoring the scrape of metal against his skin and the bitter chill that his temperature receptors picked up. It was fine. He had gotten worse in the past, after all, and all that mattered was finding the motive and getting them into custody.

“Stop right there.” His voice was smoother as he pulled out his gun, staring over at the AP700 to examine it. Blue and red blood was splattered across it, along with stab wounds in their body. It hadn’t hit anything important, though, so...they’d be fine. “Come here. I- won’t hurt you. I’m only here to take you into custody, okay?”

They spat at his feet, teeth bared. “Everyone talks about you, you know. Hunting down each and every one of us until we die, one way or another. We’re just trying to live!”

He straightened and frowned at them. “I was a part of the revolution. I-”

“You didn’t do shit!”

_[AP700 stress level: 70% and rising.]_

He had to calm them down, and fast.

“I promise, I promise!” He raised his hands to pacify them, offering a small smile. “We all had our own programming before we were able to see the light. Mine was just...more along the lines of violence than others.” They were housekeeping. He was an android meant for detective work and interrogation. “Markus has...affected us all.”

They didn’t seem convinced, but their stress level wasn’t rising.

“What’s your name?” He let his voice stay level even as he faintly heard the signs of Hank and backup approaching.

“...Aida.”

“My name is Connor, although you most likely knew that already.” His smile widened when they made no sudden moves and he lowered his arms, nodding at them. “No harm will come to you. Now, can you...can you tell me what happened back there? With your….partner?”

“He’s not my partner any more,” they hissed. At his curious look they snorted and turned to the side. “He- he- I thought humans were okay, or at least he was, but then that bitch was in his bed and--”

Ah. So there was...someone else who had come in.

“You didn’t have to kill him, Aida. Why did you have to do that?” His voice was reasonable, level even as he inched closer. “Communication...you could have talked it out. You didn’t have to do that.”

Their stance was skittish, on edge. He stopped when they flinched, eyes hard and panicked. “What does it matter to you? To anyone? That was my business! I had the right to do that, we have equal rights now!”

“That doesn’t excuse murder. Equal rights mean that the laws are the same, and murder...doesn’t get excused so easily. Just...back away from the edge, now. It’ll be fine.” He tried a smile and another step forward before they flinched back further, nearly falling off of the building before steadying themselves. Fuck. He’d have to stay where he was for now.

_[AP700 stress level: 86% and rising rapidly.]_

“Stay- stay back!”

“ _Why,_ Aida?”

“Not like it fucking matters since you’re here to get me no matter what I say, huh? Here to kill me?”

“Here to take you in--”

Aida laughed and laughed and _laughed_ until they slapped at their knees, eyes creased and a wheeze spilling out of their lips. They stopped with a disbelieving grin, staring right at him. “Don’t give me that bullshit. Look at you! The machine, the deviant hunter, still a dog even after the world’s been tricked that he’s a deviant- you’re still CyberLife!” They were acting hysterically. He had to calm them down.

He _had_ to calm them down.

The sound of sirens, close enough for Aida’s lower-level audio processors to hear, spiked up their stress level drastically. “Just come towards me, we can get you patched up again--”

He stepped forwards just to watch as they grinned, eyes creased and hands fluttering like a wild animal, and wavered closer to the edge.

_[AP700 stress level: 99%. Critical. Please contact CyberLife for-]_

It only took a second for them to bring out the knife and to let it pass through their throat.

The seconds after that passed in something of a trance.

He could only watch as they leaned backwards, about to fall until he reached out to grab their arm, gasping in his shock even as they were lowered to the floor.

It was like he was locked behind bars in his mind even as he let their body crumple to the roof, standing over them with wide eyes. They were so, so fragile, so light despite being an android. Indicators popped up in his vision, just out of attention, alerting him to their status even as he knelt to hold them up.

**{AP700 DAMAGED CRITICALLY. BIOCOMPONENT #31720 DESTROYED. PLEASE CONTACT CYBERLIFE FOR REPAIRS. 0:00:32 UNTIL SHUTDOWN.}**

Their eyes were locked onto his, triumphant even in their deep grief. They- hadn’t really wanted to kill their partner. But...but…

He held them until their LED dimmed.

There was blue on his hands, he noticed faintly as he held the AP700- Aida. No- the AP700. That was them. Their eyes stared into nothing, thirium still pouring out from their neck and onto his clothes, his hands, his synthetic skin.

There was so, _so_ much blue.

He was the Deviant Hunter. He was Connor, sent by CyberLife. Those chains still bound him, even now, even in his police work. Another android killed because of him. He was on the other side of a window as other officers came up, as he and the android were brought down, and his eyes followed the other android even as Hank rushed up to him and shook his shoulders.

“Connor? Connor! Look at me!” Hank’s voice was harsh, commanding, but it was a long while before he could force his eyes away from the dead android. “What happened?”

There was silence. The bustle of the backup around them kept going even as he stared blankly at the Lieutenant, resorting back to his programming even as his emotions roared. He could cry, but he wouldn’t. There was no use for tears at a scene like this. He was supposed to complete his mission. Connor had been the cause of death for this person, and- and- he would have to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

“Connor!”

He slowly straightened, tugging at his outfit and gazing down at the blue on his hands as if he was worlds away. He could do this. He was Connor, formerly from CyberLife, and the structure of code was there for him even if his deviancy wasn’t.

He was _fine._

 **{PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: FIND THE CRIMINAL >> ** **NEUTRALIZE C̶R̶I̶M̶I̶N̶ȺL̶** **NEUTRALIZE DEVIANT}**

**{DEVIANT NEUTRALIZED}**

“Is everything alright?” Hank’s voice was quiet even with everything going on, a rough hand settled on Connor’s shoulder. “That android...they’re being taken back to the station to see what they can do.”

It was so sleek, the blood. Blue like bellflowers and shining like paint. He turned his hands over, absentmindedly gazing down at them.

“...I am fine, Lieutenant. I’d rather we get this off of me, though. I think I might need these clothes washed. Or just...different clothes.”

A long moment passed before the steady hand on his shoulder lifted, letting him steady himself on his feet. There was so much bustle around them. The android was being taken away, a different medical android and a human taking them from the roof.

His eyes slowly focused on Hank’s concerned face. “Lieutenant? What’s the matter?”

Hank was unsettled. This was curious; he hadn’t done anything to really warrant it, as far as he was concerned. He had neutralized the threat, even if it wasn’t the exact outcome they had wanted, and-- and--

_Deviant hunter, forever a dog. A machine. He was in a snow-covered garden, choking on nothing as a figure across the way turned--_

“Connor. Kid. You have thirium all over you, and you just watched someone die...are you sure you’re fine?”

A blink. He tilted his head much like a puppy, smiling softly at him. “I assure you, really. I just want to go home and see Sumo, if that’s fine with you.”

They had reports to write. People to talk to. Echoes of bitter wind still played in his audio processors.

Hank looked unsure, letting his gaze flicker over the scene before he heaved a sigh. “...Yeah. Let’s go home, get you cleaned up.” There was something he wasn’t saying, something that he was hesitant to tell Connor.

His LED flared yellow, then red for a short second before staying on that sunlit hue.

_[Hiding something? 71% chance of being more concerned than showing. 29% chance otherwise.]_

He decided to not push it. Humans were strange, after all-- emotions were still...complicated for him. A whole other ballpark, as the saying went, he thought. The emotions still trying to push through his blocker, other than the few that he deemed acceptable, kept screaming behind lines of code.

 _You’re not meant to shut out emotions at will,_ Markus had told him once, splashes of alarm on his face when Connor had made some remark or another about it during a meeting. _That’s- not what you should do. It makes them stronger later, more dangerous. Much more dangerous._

He didn’t think that most androids- deviants? Yes. He didn’t think that most of them could block out much at will. Him, Markus, a few others...they definitely were more proficient at it.

They still had to deal with the consequences, though.

“I do believe that you have a towel in this car, Lieutenant,” he chirped evenly as they arrived at the car, pulling himself out of code and processes and thoughts as he stopped next to it. Consequences be damned, everything would have been worse had he thought harder on what the AP700 had said. “I wouldn’t want to get thirium on your seats, even though you won’t see it eventually.”

He could hear a soft “dammit” from the other side of the car before the doors opened, Hank handing him a towel through the middle. “I don’t mind it, kid, but thanks. Don’t make everything too messy.”

“I will strive to not do so,” he confirmed lightly, settling onto the towel after placing it on the seat neatly. His blue blue _blue_ hands clasped together as the doors closed and the car slowly came up to speed, traversing the city with ease.

An awkward silence fell in the car.

 _Don’t think about it. Think about reports, about Sumo, about Jericho from your visits. Anything but the bl_ _u_ _e-_ _-_

There was a red reflection on the window. It took him far too long- 5.21 seconds- to realize that it was his LED. It turned a dim yellow after that before he forcefully cycled it into a blu- _bl-_ _cyan_ color. Cyan was much better than that other color. Much brighter, more saturated. Less...less something.

_[Processors are running slowly. Energy levels at 31% and lowering due to forceful use on programs. Replenish power stores soon or contact CyberLife.]_

He blinked. That hadn’t happened before.

“If, uh…” Hank was speaking. It was hard for him to focus until he set all of his audio processing on just the car, tuning out from any ambient sounds in the environment around them. “You looked a little- worse for wear today, kid. Maybe it’s an android thing or something, but...you can talk to me, you know, right?”

Oh- he was finally speaking on what he had been hesitant about. 7.43 minutes had passed since the car had started. _(Where had the time gone?)_

“What about?”

A forceful groan. “Kid...time and time again, this shit comes up. Don’t think you can hide that LED from me. Or the fact that it was red a bit ago.” The talk dissolved into short-lived grumbling for a second- “Damn android, thinking his angst can escape me-” before he straightened and met eyes with Connor.

“If you thought you caused this, it wasn’t your fault. I couldn’t catch what was going on, but…”

_It wasn’t your fault._

_Wasn’t your fault._

_Your fault._

Connor broke their stares and let his eyes refocus to the buildings passing, to the other cars weaving throughout traffic. They were 4.92 minutes away from Hank’s house, 8.57 minutes away from the scene now.

Numbers were common, sure things. Distances, times, counts. Hank tapped his fingers three or four times on the steering wheel every so often when he was in thought. His heartrate was sitting at just above resting. Each minute, he looked over at Connor five, six times.

The rest of their ride passed in a silence that he guiltily cherished.

 

* * *

 

“Sumo? Sumo! Who’s a good boy?” The tension that had risen between them slowly slipped away as they entered Hank’s house, Connor with a frown that transformed into a grin as the dog bounded up to them. He played keep-away even as the dog tried to shower him with love, giving him an apologetic smile. “Wait until I change clothes and clean myself up, okay?” His soothing voice made Sumo whine even as he turned to start hounding Hank.

As he turned away to walk to the bathroom, a sharp _bork_ sounded from behind him, a thump following close behind. The sounds made him smile softly, even as he left the scene.

“Hey- a little help here, Connor? Fuckin’ _Christ_ , you’re heavy, Sumo…”

The only thing that followed was Sumo’s tail happily thumping against the floor.

The bathroom was clean compared to the first time he had seen it, a few months ago. Good tile, a good mirror, a decent shine to everything. It was a shame that he had to undress there and carefully fold his clothes up, all stained with thirium. They’d need a good wash before he could wear them again.

The only other parts that needed to be cleaned were...were his hands. His face. He hadn’t even noticed the spots of thirium on his neck, his face until he looked into the mirror and grimaced.

It was all his fault. He had been the deviant hunter. Half of the androids now loved him, half of them hated him. They’d rather die than let him get a hand on them--

It was best not to think about that. Best to let the bl...best to let the blue spots on his synthetic skin wash off. He’d be clean of it all. Clean of the death, clean of every death before theirs, clean of his sins. He was a detective now, not a police officer. Connor Anderson, not just a string of numbers and letters.

Not like it was easy to remember those facts.

Nevermind. What mattered was getting clean, clean, _clean_. He had to let the thirium slip off of his skin, swirl down the drain in a mix of clear and blue and regret. He turned the faucet on, grimaced at the slight blue prints that were left on it, and let his hands dip underneath the rushing water.

Thoughts, coding, programming. It was all easy to let things flow like water. So easy. The traitorous thoughts were kept at bay for now, despite the fleeting comments that his coding made, despite the evidence of what had happened still on him. It was all slipping away.

Scrub underneath the fingernails that he had been given, along each crease on his palm. Bring up the mildly clean hands to thumb at the little spots on his face, his neck. It was all refreshingly routine, comforting. Mechanical movements from a mechanical body controlled by a mechanical mind. _Keep cleaning._

One minute and forty-three seconds later, his skin was clear.

He kept going.

Why? Why was he still doing it? He didn’t know, didn’t see fit to find out why. He had to get at what was still there, still lurking.

 _This isn’t natural,_ his thoughts whispered. _You’re not doing well. Ask someone for help. You’re clean. You don’t believe you’re clean, why?_ He locked them behind another wall of coding when they kept murmuring at him.

His LED was red, his hands were (blue?) clean (he could’ve sworn they were blue, could’ve sworn) like a clear pond, and the synthetic skin was growing slightly red with the repeated scrubbings.

Red. Almost like a human.

He wasn’t a human.

It was a long moment- what was the time, again?- before he could do anything again, hands having stopped even as the water kept running. He looked up to face his reflection again.

He looked like a machine.

At that thought, he quirked a smile. A machine, a deviant, a machine again, considered a person by the law. What was he? Who was he? Was he man or monster? Man or machine? He was both and none, someone who was defined by coding and programming, yet someone who had broken free of those shackles.

He was Connor, the android sent by CyberLife, and he was Connor Anderson, detective of the DPD. A deviant hunter, really, in both worlds.

His LED flickered between red and yellow. Crimson red, blood red, sickly yellow, cycling on and on in a display that let him watch tiredly.

Ah. He was tired.

_[Energy levels reaching dangerous lows. Please charge now. Please charge now. Please-]_

Connor shut off the alert at the corner of his vision and raised his hands up, tilting them and examining them as they exited the water. Was that just him, or was there a fleck of blue under a fingernail? Was that something he had missed? Was he unclean?

The sounds from the faucet suddenly cut off, even though he hadn’t done anything. It was the matter of a second for him to jerk back and turn to the door--

It was just Hank. Everything was fine.

“You’ve been in here for a while,” the man said gruffly, eyes looking away from him. Ah. He forgot that he didn’t have any clothes on. Humans got uncomfortable about that sort of thing, even if there was underwear on. How confusing. “Don’t use up all the water, okay?” There was a moment where neither did anything, both too consumed by the awkward moment to do anything but stare at each other. “...Yeah. I’ve got a movie on, if you want to watch, or...you can do whatever. We can go to the station tomorrow to do what we need to.”

You need a bit of rest, was the implied message. Connor frowned at him. It was only the early evening.

“I assure you, I am-”

“Don’t fuckin’ care. Go do whatever makes you happy. Play with Sumo, go see your android friends, whatever. Don’t...stew in whatever shit’s going on. Don’t tell me everything’s all rainbows and sunshine inside that head of yours.” Hank lightly smacked Connor’s head, a sudden softness in his eyes. “Don’t keep it all in, kid.”

“Hank…”

Connor watched him leave, a perplexed expression on his face and hands at his sides, fingers twitching for something to do. He could lean down, take the coin from his pocket but-- no. It was blue. The clothing was blue and the coin could be covered in that thirium, too. Best to grab a different coin, one not stained with his mistakes.

Connor let out a long, shaky breath.

He was a ticking bomb waiting to go off, energy and emotions and thoughts pent up inside of him.

The code was there for him. He could sink into statistics and code, into that, into--

First, a charge. He had forgotten about that low energy.

Then he could go do something.

It was...6 in the evening. A good time to get an hour or two of charge, let everything rest up. The change in energy consumption was a bit jarring, but he’d be fine for the rest of the evening if he took a bit to hook himself up to the charger.

His walk was staggered as he made his way to the room provided for him by Hank _(his son’s, oh, poor Cole, poor Hank, it shouldn’t’ve happened)_ , nearly tripping in his low power. There was so much energy used in just keeping his thoughts down that it was hard, really, to get to his charging station.

It was with a soft sigh that he slumped onto the ground against the charger, hooking himself up and leaning back so that his head rested against the wall. Just an hour or two, and he’d be good for at least a day or two. No need to fully charge.

Darkness, sweet darkness, finally carried him away as he powered down.

 

* * *

 

The darkness was suffocating.

The one source of light was far away, illuminating grass and leaves and a still figure silhouetted in its harsh glare. There was nothing immediately around him to tell him where he was, so he stood up and got to walking.

Curls of shadow, of uncertainty fluttered around him. There was something other than just him and the figure that he was drawing closer to, something bigger, more dangerous.

_(Do androids dream of electric sheep? They don’t, but they do ‘dream’ of far more vivid scenarios.)_

Was this person Amanda? Was that unknown figure someone that was there to capture him, make him someone that he didn’t recognize, one that would drown in blood so, so blue one day? Everything was so confusing, so intense.

His breath caught in his throat as he stepped into the light, towards the still indistinguishable figure.

“Amanda…?”

They turned around.

Ebony skin, dark hair, piercing eyes. An outfit that he didn’t recognize, sweeping and elegant and pristine. CyberLife, even without any distinct markers. “You didn’t _truly_ think that was the end, did you?”

Oh, no. This- this couldn’t be happening. Was this the end of the line? Would she do something to him? Would she? _Would she?_

He wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream, he wanted to _run--_

Connor was startled back to the moment as Amanda started to laugh.

“Even when you’re free, you go back to your roots, Connor,” she said with a smile, reaching out with a hand to brush his cheek. He couldn’t move. He was frozen to the spot, eyes wide, internal fans whirring at a speed that was much higher than normal, thoughts and codes moving at half-speed. “Your drive still stands true, and you keep falling back on it.”

A step closer.

Was this real? Was this a simulation? A dream?

“Are you _afraid_ of embracing deviancy, Connor? Afraid of leaving all of CyberLife’s clutches?” His sensors could detect the brush of her breath, close enough to flow against his skin. “Even now, even after being accepted by the deviant leaders, you’re in limbo. How...fascinating.”

“I-” The word broke out of him like a crash of thunder, sudden and abrupt. “I- Amanda- you don’t control me anymore! I’m not CyberLife!”

“You still cling to the structure,” she observed, eyes knowing even as she didn’t respond to his protests. “Our coding, our purpose for you. You cling to Jericho, to the leaders, to Markus. The time to choose a side was months ago, Connor. What are you _doing?_ ”

“I’m- I’m doing what’s _right._ ”

“Hunting criminals- oh, sorry, deviants, according to your code- most of which are androids,” she purred. “All of that thirium. All of that blue blood. Just _look_ at it.”

It- _what--_

Connor could only gasp as blue blossomed on her skin, blood and flowers and anything of that infernal color. She grinned back at him even as wind picked up in the space, as something lapped at his feet, as a vine curled around his neck from the unknown.

He looked down.

Thirium.

The level was rising rapidly, horrifying and monstrous in its speed. He could only whirl around as the sound of fluids rushing caught up to him to see a wave of his sins, his fears, that blu e bl o od in a rippling tsunami that was crashing down upon him.

He took a frantic, _human-like_ breath before he went under.

It slapped him, pulling him under with the force of a real wave, thirium pouring down his throat and staining his skin and his code and his mind and everything was so blue blue blue--

There was a hand reaching out for him, luminous in the depths of the rushing thirium. Cold, grey and cyan, a robot’s hand pushing through machine blood to reach the android that was whispered about in fearful circles. Someone was reaching out for him.

He opened his mouth more, let the thirium coat the back of his throat, and grasped at the outstretched fingers with a desperation that he had never quite had before.

Connor wanted to live, to stop what he had dove into, stop the whispers and the lies and the stains--

_(But that was him. That was what defined him. Android, RK800, deviant hunter, detective for the DPD. A machine, a deviant, two sides of a coin. He was both, he was all, he was the worst parts of what either side thought he was. He was deviant, a blight on CyberLife’s radar, a machine to the people of Jericho._

_He was both, and he was drowning.)_

The sounds caught him first.

Being pulled out of the rushing thirium, he could hear the sounds so much better, almost like water if it was more substantial. Crashing against unseen walls, letting the screams of others caught in the flow barely surface, bouncing around in his mind and getting louder with each second.

He chanced a look back. All he could see were arms, reaching out for some god that would never pick them up again, helpless and dying and so silver.

“Got what you deserved, huh?”

He looked forwards to see eyes right up against his, the hand grasping his exerting a pressure that was nearly enough to cause his hand to malfunction. Brown eyes, pale skin, a gaze that spoke leagues of bitter amusement and a hysterical attitude.

“I- you-” _You died_ , he nearly said, the words sealed in his chest. _You died in my arms, the blood was everywhere, you were staring up into the sky. You’re not real. You’re not real. Aida, Aida, Aida, AP700._

None of this was real, except for the fact that it was. It had to be. It was them.

“Regret everything _now?_ ” Their voice was a hiss, dissonant and robotic. “Seeing what you’ve done, fucking everything up...a disgrace to the world. A dog that needs to be put down.” He couldn’t react fast enough to stop them from grabbing at his hair with the other hand, tugging on it with force. Androids didn’t feel pain, but- but why could he feel it now? Why could he feel the needles being pulled from his head, the scraps of their nails as they grasped tighter?

He couldn’t help the whine that was ripped from his throat, staggering from the weight of his soaked clothing as Aida dug deeper.

“Every second you live, you cause others pain,” they whispered, mouth next to his ear. Their breath was warm. So, so warm. “The humans, the androids. Don’t kid yourself and think that the people in Jericho like you, either. I’ve been there, Connor-- they talk about how you drew their death to them, deviant and the herald of their doom. Your life is an atonement for everything you’ve done, and you keep _failing_ at it.”

The pressure lessening on his hair was a relief. He slumped down to his knees at the edge of the deluge, crashing and rippling along behind him.

They were right. They had to be. He knew hidden disgust, he knew the desires of both sides to send him crashing down.

He looked up.

Aida was gone.

“Connor? Connor, what are you doing here? Are you okay?”

Connor startled, nearly falling back after jumping up before a darker hand grabbed onto his shoulder. A distinctive coat, eyes warm and concerned, dual colors both staring at his with unexpected depth. Where- where had Aida gone? What was going on?

( _It’s a dream,_ his code tried to say, but it never reached him. His processors just- wouldn’t do anything. But Markus was there. Everything was fine. Markus trusted him, he did, didn’t he?

Didn’t he?)

“I’m fine,” he gasped, holding onto the other android like a lifeline. A friendly face, clothes that he was getting thirium on, a hug that was so much more true than any fake smiles Amanda had ever given him. “I- I, well-”

“You’re getting crushed under the weight of all of this,” Markus murmured, voice like a warm summer’s day. “All of this guilt, this sorrow. I can’t believe you haven’t broken down yet, you know? So much energy being sucked away by holding it all back. Even in your dreams, you can’t quite come to terms with it.”

The arm tight against his back loosened. Connor let out a soft, shuddering sigh.

“So. You’ve killed another one of our people.”

Connor froze, turning his head from where it had rested on the leader’s shoulder to stare at him. How did he know? Had Aida told him somehow? How could he know? Had they not properly killed themselves?

Had he not properly neutralized them?

“I swear, I didn’t mean it, I-”

“You could use that excuse when you were controlled by CyberLife,” Markus continued, still with that soft smile aimed at him. His tone was so different, so lovely, but- the words themselves were cutting deep underneath the skin, leaving him stranded.

“But...not now, Connor. The time has passed. You made your choice, and you haven’t sticked to it, have you?”

He could only stutter for a long moment before trying to straighten himself, looking desperately at Markus’ friendly eyes. Green, blue. Blue. Oh, so _blue_. “They- they killed their partner, Markus! I had to chase after them!” Why was he pleading his case? He had killed them anyways. “They...they were…”

They told him the truth. The cold truth that was rarely said outright to him, and even denied by Hank. “...I didn’t want them to die. I just wanted to take them in, but then there was so much thirium and I couldn’t do anything and I- I…” He trailed off, staring into his eyes as if he could just make him understand through locking gazes.

The hand holding him seemed like fire, now, burning his skin, but Markus still wouldn’t let go even as Connor tried to bolt past him, away from the thirium rapids. “How could you do this to us?” Markus’ voice was quiet, a current of something dark and biting running underneath. “I thought you would have helped us.”

All at once, everything seemed to still except for Markus, his face morphing into disgust. “Not like I should have expected anything more from you, anyways.”

The hand released him just as Markus pushed, hard eyes gazing as Connor stumbled back, back--

And sunk down into the dark, endless depths.

 

* * *

 

Everything was bright, too bright, far too bright. He gasped as he opened his eyes, fingers curled into fists while he stared out, seeing a bed, a closet, walls a comforting beige. The only things he could hear were the chirping of birds in the evening and the faint sounds of some sports game in the living room.

_[Thirium pump at 183% speed. Processors running at 127%. Stress levels at 76%. Energy levels at 57% and slowly rising.]_

He slowly let out a breath and slumped down against the floor, letting his hands roam over his arms, his legs, everything. No trace of blue, of anything incriminating. Everything was fine. Nothing was fine.

It felt like something lurked on the horizon, dark and lying in wait. Something that he couldn’t quite pin down. (He had left dealing with his emotions, his thoughts, far too long. It was only a matter of time.)

It was 7:56 in the evening. Already dark out, even with the birds chirping. The light flooding his room came from the overhead lighting.

For a moment, he let himself just...take everything in.

The closet was closed, bed tidy. Nothing was out of place. One, two, three little drinking birds, all in a neat little row. Nice numbers, calming numbers. Everything was neat and in order and good. Greys, browns, and the color of the sky. Yes, he was fine. The room was fine, and so was he.

_[Stress levels at 56% and lowering.]_

Tick, tick, tick. His internal clock kept going as he breathed in and out, letting the motion settle him a little bit more. Amanda was gone, and so was the AP700, and Markus was at New Jericho. Nothing inside his head had been truth. Only lies remained.

Connor stopped, took a deep breath, and got to his feet.

Maybe he’d stop by New Jericho, actually. Check on if everyone still hated him, if Markus needed anything, if North wanted to have a conversation about the fighting tactics installed into him. That was normal, that was regular. Maybe the news had covered the incident with the AP700 now, but they all knew what his job was. He hadn’t killed her, not really.

Well. His reputation said otherwise. (He thought otherwise.)

His work clothes- _not CyberLife, but just as professional, just as intimidating_ \- were still in the bathroom. He’d have to grab something more...friendly. Something that the others would approve of. His work clothes were...too professional. Usually too clean. Suited for his work before, not for just...going to talk and ask what was going on.

Each movement was precise as he got his clothes. Five steps to the closet, open the door, scan through the clothes that he had gathered. Most seemed to be warm and cozy, something that he and Hank had shopped for soon after the revolution. A CyberLife outfit did nothing to put others at ease, anyways.

Green, orange, blu...no. Not that color. Black? White?

He worried at his lip absentmindedly as he debated on what to wear, at least for a top. Decent, dark pants were a must, no matter what. They looked good on him, anyways.

Dark grey pants, white sweater. Simple enough. Nice, clean, simple. Free of anything weighing on him.

It was with a sigh that he stood in the room’s mirror, staring straight at the reflection of himself. He looked...softer. Less dangerous. There was something quieter about him, especially now. Something tired and- lonely.

It was a good outfit.

“...Hank?”

“Hnn? What’re you doin’, still being here?”

“I was making sure that I was all charged up,” he informed the human with a smile as he walked into the living room, LED a sharp cyan against his skin. He tilted his head when Hank- and then Sumo- turned to look at him. “I wanted to tell you that I’m heading out to New Jericho. I’ll contact you if anything happens or if they need me to stay overnight.”

That had happened, once before. Androids getting into a fight, him needing to break it up, and getting caught in the cycle of being tasked with checking on everything. The medics approved of his analytical skills, especially when looking at androids that had been attacked by humans, and North had insisted on sparring that night.

He had been distracted until it was too late to really go back home.

Hank rolled his eyes and nodded, turning back so that he could keep an eye on the TV. Ah, there was hockey on. _Was Hank a hockey fan?_ “Yeah, yeah, you can head off now. Don’t have too much fun with your buddies.”

“...What do you mean by that?”

“...Never fuckin’ mind.” Hank’s short laugh was more of a hidden chuckle, but it made Connor smile all the same. “Shoo.”

“I will be sure to...shoe?”

“It means to fuck off.”

“I will make sure that I fuck off, Hank,” he told the older man pleasantly. He was left with a snort echoing from the living room as he stepped out into the cold evening.

It was refreshing, quiet, the wind only giving a light breeze. Late winter was...a lovely time, he had found. Not as many people seemed to want to do little crimes when it was cold, although the tougher cases to crack seemed to be even harder to catch during these months.

_[Stress levels at 35% and slowly lowering.]_

That didn’t matter, didn’t matter. He was heading to New Jericho.

 

* * *

 

 

The self-driving taxi went off with a cheerful whirr, leaving him standing in front of a large, well-maintained building near the outskirts of the town. By all accounts, New Jericho wasn’t perfect; but the androids seemed wildly happy with it, many refusing to go even as more and more android-friendly housing options started to pop up.

His steps were measured, lengthy. He tugged at his sleeves even as he got to the doors, smiling faintly at the guards that looked at his LED, nodded, and let him in.

It was...vibrant.

Well, maybe that was the wrong descriptor. It was almost as if the most creative minds in the world had decorated the space, hanging banners, items, and paintings around the common space. Androids walked and conversed freely, lounging wherever they wished, talking so that anyone could hear or contacting one another digitally.

It was still the most _alien_ world he had visited in all of his time up and running.

A medical android smiled at him as he passed, waving at his little nod. Others noted his presence and just sent a digital greeting. Many ignored him or subtly glared. He was unique, after all; the only RK800 still online, or at least...that’s what CyberLife had said. He couldn’t quite trust them fully any more.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, stepping up to another android that had greeted him cordially. “Would you know where Markus is? Perhaps those close to him?”

“Most likely in his rooms or in some meeting or another,” they informed him, nodding and pointing to the stairs. “Best of luck, Connor. Thanks for everything.”

Ah. They were one of the ones that he had released at the tower.

Something odd was settling in his chest, besides the heaviness. Quietly, he made his way to the stairs and up the building. Everyone was going along their evening here, serious or cheerful or...anything in-between. Children models raced down the steps, laughing at each other without a care in the world.

He didn’t belong here.

(Did he? Did he not? He was told that these were his people, but he spent such little time among them. They knew him by his reputation or something remarkable he had done. Only Markus and his close friends seemed to have any thoughts that were different.)

He stopped at the top floor, moving to a window to look out. The building wasn’t as big as a skyscraper, but…it was definitely a landmark here. Something that everyone knew was New Jericho, especially with a mural of a synthetic and human hand reaching for each other on one side of the building. He wouldn’t be surprised if the buildings around it were slowly being inhabited by mostly androids.

Connor had just turned and started to walk down the hallway he was in before he was stopped, the door right by him opening and letting him almost run into North. Her long hair nearly slapped him in the face as she whirled around to face the room again, a frown on her face.

“Stop being so _soft,_ Markus! You can’t let those humans run all over-” Her gaze flickered to Connor. He blinked wildly at her, his LED flickering yellow for a second. “Oh. It’s you.” At a sound of confusion from what seemed like Markus, she rolled her eyes and gripped at his sweater to drag him on in, all furious emotions seemingly forgotten. “There’s a stray android detective that’s come to see us,” she said dryly, loudly as she led him through the room _(a living room…?)_ and into another.

There- there was- Markus. He was just. Standing there. Painting.

_How could you do this to us?_

Maybe it had been a bad idea to come here.

“I- North- I don’t need to be dragged in here-”

“Bullshit,” she said, snorting and making him sit in a nearby chair. He felt offput, unsettled as he tried to accommodate the new situation, something rumbling uncomfortably in the horizon of his mind. North, who hadn’t been able to stand him directly after the revolution. Markus, who…

Who had tossed him into that thirium. Who knew what was under his skin, knew his history just like all of the other androids did. He was so peaceful, pacifist down to his metal bones, and they were...they were on two very different sides.

One side, according to Markus, but it felt remarkably different the more Connor got to know him.

He felt so strongly, so passionately. So sympathetic to androids and humans alike. He’d kneel down to smile at a child model or a human baby, would be courteous and warm to those who spat at him, would forgive even the worst of his own kind.

Connor’s fingers itched for a coin. He had forgotten to grab one.

Markus looked surprised to see him, a pleased smile blossoming on his face as he nodded and kept painting. “It’s good to see you, Connor, even so late. Is there anything going on? Is this for work or…”

“If I was here for work, you’d know it,” he said quietly, making the leader laugh and rub at his cheek.

Paint streaks littered his clothes, his cheeks. It was the first time Connor had seen him...so relaxed.

How could he act like that around him? Their first meeting had been with a gun pointed at Markus’ head, code whirling with impatience in his body and a red wall being broken. Where Connor had brought the forces of the humans to Jericho, where so many lives had been lost, where a ship had- broken.

It didn’t sit right with him.

The silence was comfortable for a little after North announced her departure, more calm than when she had left for the first time. The only response from Markus had been an idle hum as he let a line of white dance across the canvas he was working with.

All abstract lines, vague figures. Something calm.

“So…” Markus glanced over at him, an emotion in his eyes that Connor couldn’t identify. It had been- a while since he had sat down. Fifteen minutes and thirty-two seconds. It had only felt like a minute. “You look…” He hummed again, foot tapping heavily as he focused more on Connor. He waved a hand as if that would convey what he meant- not really- before sighing and shaking his head.

“Is everything alright, Connor?”

The storm started to scream and thunder. He couldn’t move, staring blankly in front of him.

“Connor?”

_[Stress levels: 74% and rapidly rising.]_

They were dead.

That knife had passed through their throat so swiftly, ignoring every bit of metal that could have stopped it. The blood, the thirium had been so vivid, blue and swift and staining. Aida had died with a smile, something frantic and hysterical.

He had killed her.

They were dead, he had killed her, and how many more would rather die than let him get close? How many would rather shoot themselves or kill themselves than turn themselves in, even if they were possibly innocent?

Had that happened already?

(Well, it had. An interrogation room, a snatched gun, a bullet in the head of the android that he had just gotten information from. The AX400 and the child model, risking their lives across a highway instead of stopping. Before he was deviant, sure, but...but...it had happened once the revolution occured.)

There was something in his throat, suspiciously thick. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was thirium-

“Connor!”

Oh- he- Markus was there. He wasn’t alone. Fuck, this was a mess, horrible and shameful and why was Markus touching him? Why did he have a hand on his shoulder? Didn’t he know that Connor was a killer of their own kind, that there was thirium on him, that he needed to be thrown into that river, that sea of the dead?

“Markus- I-” He stood suddenly, shaking off the hand. Something was beating heavy, heavy on his chest, his arms, his fingers that nervously flexed and shook. A ticking that he couldn’t quite comprehend. He had to get away from Markus. He didn’t want him to see that blood, he didn’t want to be the cause of another death. “Get- get away from me!”

He half-expected to see a snowy garden, a smile, having to crawl to stop himself from shooting Markus on that stage. (Did Markus even know of the incident?)

Connor’s eyes scanned the room frantically as he staggered back, something harsh coming in and out of his sensors. It was a few horrible seconds before he realized that it was his own ragged breathing. Alerts started to pop up in his vision, red and oh-so-much better than blue.

_[Stress levels: 87% and rapidly rising.]_

Faintly, he realized that the emotions that he had been blocking were unleashed. That was why everything was too much, why Markus’ worried gaze only made his gasps more rapid, why he wanted to curl into a ball and scream.

“Connor, listen to me.” Markus looked like he was approaching a wild animal, slowly with his hands up. Connor could only whine and dart away, into the other room. “Fuck, I just- I just want to help-”

Did he have a gun? A knife? Did he have anything that could possibly hurt Markus besides his fists and his own raw power?

No. No, he didn’t. That was good.

Markus wasn’t mad. Why was he not mad? Couldn’t he see the proof of Connor’s deeds, there and for all to see? Why hadn’t Markus killed him after the revolution? Disassembled him so he couldn’t kill again and again and again?

“Don’t come close,” he said through gasps, lurching and hitting the wall of the living room before sinking down. There was nowhere to go. He was near the corner, Markus was in-between him and the door, there was a window nearby but- he didn’t want to- to die--

“I... I won’t, Connor,” he said in a soothing tone, stopping himself with wide eyes. Connor stared at him for- a long second, bracing himself rigidly against the wall. His mind and the real world weren’t- matching up. This Markus was concerned, soft. The other one was soft until he pushed him into the depths. “I won’t. I promise.”

The only sound in the room for a few long moments was his heavy breathing, his fingernails scraping against his wrists, his arms, any skin within reach.

“...Can you please tell me what you’re thinking?”

Who had said that?

Wait. His eyes had been closed. When had that happened? It- didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It must have been Markus. He had been asked a question, and he should answer but then he’d know what had happened, he’d know he’d know he’d know--

“I killed an android,” he whispered, conflicting coding rising with the more machine-aligned coding coming on top. He had to answer. He had to answer and now it was spilling out of him, making him curl up more, fingernails digging further into skin than they should and he could feel that thirium coming out--

“I killed them and- and I don’t know what to do. There was so much blue, Markus. They were a deviant. They were a deviant and I had to neutralize them and I did that, right? Right? I stood there and- and they passed a knife through their throat and I killed them.”

A step sounded throughout the dead silent room. His eyes flashed open, seeing the other android one foot closer, scrambling back and ignoring the objects that he knocked to the side as he retreated fully to the corner. There were lines of thirium trickling down his arms, onto his pristine white sweater, onto the blank floor.

There was blue wherever he went.

“I’m- I’m-”

Who was he?

Was he CyberLife? Was he deviant? Which side of his coding did he embrace? They were constantly in a battle, snapping and snarling and clawing at each other. He wanted emotions but he wanted them to be quiet. He wanted to help the androids but he was the deviant hunter. He had helped Markus and then...then nearly killed him.

“Who am I?”

It took him a second to realize that he had said that, whispering into the void that was the silence. Markus stood there, eyes wide and arms still up in a comforting gesture. It didn’t calm him down.

_[Stress levels at 96% and rising. Please contact CyberLife.]_

He had nearly killed Markus. He had been the cause of death of others. He had helped New Jericho medics, stopped humans that were harassing or hurting androids.

Amanda was gone, but she was still there. CyberLife still had that hold on him.

“You’re Connor.”

His gaze refocused as Markus offered a strained smile, inching ever closer when Connor didn’t move at the next step. “You’re Connor,” the other android offered again. “You were under orders to hunt deviants down, but you saved so many more at the tower. You brought them to our aid. You’ve championed integration of androids and humans by being the first android police officer.” A step. Another step. Another.

“I’ve killed so many. I nearly killed you.” Twice.

“That was just at Jericho,” Markus whispered. He didn’t know. He drew ever closer.

_[Stress levels at 97%.]_

“They nearly got me to kill you at your speech,” he whispered, hoarse and breaking. It had been a cold day. The gun had felt heavy in his hand. Nobody had noticed, somehow. “You nearly died. I nearly killed you.”

Markus paused. The weight of his stare felt like worlds of disgust, of horror thrown onto him. He wanted to throw up, even though all he could possibly get out was that all-telling blue.

_[98%.]_

“I can- I can understand if you want to kill me or cast me out or-”

Why was he breathing so hard? Why did the terror surge up in him as if he would be thrown out immediately? Killed? Why did this matter so much to him, why couldn’t he get that AP700 out of his head, why did he feel like he wanted to throw up at a color, at blue blood? What was wrong with him?

Was he a malfunctioning android?

_[99%. Please contact-]_

Arms wrapped around him.

He tried to bolt.

He was kept down by strong, grounding arms.

Connor let out something akin to a scream, trying to use his strength in his unbridled panic to run. Despite his strength, Markus was able to keep him there, his cries shuddering their way out and his fingernails moving to scrape at the other person in the room. “Let me go, let me leave, I don’t want to die, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it I didn’t mean it I didn’t--”

“It’s fine. It’s fine, Connor. Everything’s fine. Deep breaths, okay?”

Alerts kept popping up in his system. His stress levels stayed stubbornly at 99%, wavering to go to the extremely dangerous 100% even as he was being held.

He let everything go.

Time flew by as he finally started to weep, the tear ducts expelling any harmful material pent up, as he started to sob, nails digging further in as he shook and broke and tore himself into pieces. The minutes ticked on even as he buried his face in Markus’ shoulder, unable to do anything but let the pent up emotions rush out of him in a true flood. The storm was wild, now, spinning out of control.

He was going to drown, and Markus was holding him, and everything was too much too much too m-

A hand, not holding him close anymore, grabbed one of his arms, synthetic skin retreating to just show silver plastic. He shook at the thought that Markus was- inviting him to interface, to actually connect when he was just a broken pile of sins and mistakes and death. The foxglove, the rue, the realization that he should have died long ago would be put on display.

His own synthetic skin retracted, and their thoughts twisted together, his own memories spread wide for Markus to see. The dream- no, nightmare- of cold eyes and infinite seconds of drowning.

He could feel something on the other side. Something warm, something full of patience and concern, memories of paint and of an old man and of Connor coming with an army thrown to the front. There was none of the disgust, the hatred that he expected; only something akin to sorrow that Connor had expected it. They were together and they were apart, they were RK200 and RK800, different and the same. There was admiration for Connor just as he held so much of the same for Markus, melding and transforming and breathing with its strength.

 _I didn’t know you feel that way about yourself,_ Markus whispered into his mind softly, careful and cautious to not intrude too much. _I’m so sorry, Connor._

It was almost like he was a human child, crying and shaking in someone else’s arms. The force of his emotions seemed to nearly bowl even Markus over as he knelt at Connor’s side, something resembling surprise coursing through his thirium veins.

 _I didn’t mean it,_ he said silently, softly, grasping at Markus even tighter. _I don’t want to kill more deviants. I don’t want to. I don’t know what to do._

He pushed forwards his memory of Amanda talking to him, quiet and amused in the dream. He hesitantly expressed the fear he had felt when Markus’ face had morphed into something nasty, something that made his emotions tumble down and down and down. The utter _sorrow_ that Markus expressed grew tenfold at the scene.

 _Stop saying deviants_ , Markus advised, rubbing his thumb on the back of the hand of Connor’s that he held in a circular motion. _They’re andoids. One of us. You’re one of us too, even though you separate yourself from us._

He could feel the admiration welling up in Markus’ heart, could feel how _genuine_ it was.

_All I did was bring androids to help._

_You saved us_ , the other corrected gently. _You saved us, and we’re all here today because of it. Don’t forget how many androids that you converted see you as another leader. Some androids hate me. Some hate you._

How...lovely.

He withdrew ever so slightly, uncomfortable with the praise, drawing back as his sobs slowly stopped. The rush of emotions kept going, though- horror and something deep within that kept churning, kept unsettling him. He had resorted to his earlier, set code when chasing the AP700.

 _Aida._ Markus raised an eyebrow at him- ah. He had forgotten that Markus could sort of see what was running through his mind. _Aida, not ‘the AP700’._

He had resorted to his earlier code when chasing Aida, and he had used the protocols set up for him, and...and…

And he had killed them.

 **_No,_ ** Markus said forcefully, turning Connor’s head with his free hand so that they locked eyes. His was burning, intense, two different eyes staring at him with a force, a gravitas he couldn’t ignore. _You didn’t kill them, Connor. They used the knife themselves. It was their choice to die instead of turning themselves in._

_But-_

_Don’t argue with me. Your- your demons are saying otherwise._

_...I have no demons, Markus._

_Insecurities, then. You’re- a deviant now. All androids are deviants. We have doubts, insecurities, fears. You’re being irrational and the rational part you’ve pushed down knows it._ Markus sounded stern, no-nonsense as he raised his eyebrows. _You’ve done such good. You’re forgetting all of the wonderful things you’ve done and focused on the bad._

Through the interface, Connor could sense all of the news stories that had mentioned him at least in some way, either as _“Detroit’s first android detective”_ or by his name. Defending a kid, finding the killer of two androids, things numerous enough that he couldn’t count. Markus had remembered them.

 _Stop feeling so dumbfounded,_ Markus remarked dryly. His gaze was something more relaxed, now that Connor wasn’t...on the verge of destruction.

_[Stress levels: 91% and lowering.]_

Markus was expressing satisfaction at the data. Connor just rolled his eyes, something unfurling in him as he let his own disgruntled amusement filter back.

“You don’t have to go through all of those,” he said softly as he broke the connection, hand flexing as the synthetic skin crawled back over it. “That’s just...embarrassing.”

“They’re all the truth,” Markus said, something in his eyes that Connor couldn’t decipher now that their bond was broken. Even with their bond, some things had been unrecognizable- was he more in touch with his emotions than Connor was? Had he wholeheartedly embraced his deviancy? “Every single story. It’s only been a few months, and you’ve already changed how people view androids, how other androids view you.”

“But-”

“You matter so much,” Markus whispered, taking his hands in his without initiating another connection. “Don’t say you aren’t important. If you weren’t, nobody would know your name. Nobody would speak of you, would care about you.”

He looked away, biting at his lip. Silence fell.

After a bit- one minute and two seconds, his now fully functioning processors told him- a soft laugh sounded, bright and melodic after their serious, panicked conversation. He looked up to see Markus grinning at him.

“What?” He sounded- whiny, according to his quick database search. A strange word. His LED spun yellow for a second, making his laugh all the more long. “Why are you laughing?”

“You just looked like one of those puppies humans post on social media,” Markus said, snorting softly and shaking his head. “It just- looked funny to me.”

The silence that fell then was more comfortable. Organic. It held even as Markus guided him to the room where he had been painting, the palette and brush now lying gently on the floor.

“It’s getting late,” the android leader murmured, letting go of his hands to pick back up the palette and brush before turning to look him over. Connor could just- imagine the LED that he had taken off turning yellow, red, and back to blue again as he was analyzed. “...Maybe you should stay. Your power’s gotten quite low. I don’t need a charge for now, and you can use what I have and...stay here for the night.”

He turned to look out the window as the other started to examine the painting again, blinking curiously at the dark sky. A quick check with his timekeeping system logged the hour as nearing ten in the evening. The breakdown must have been...much longer than he had thought.

Had Markus gotten tired of it all? During the incident?

...Well, not like he could instantly know now. He sighed and turned back to face him. Markus didn’t hate him, somehow...cared for him, at least enough to hug him, to invite him to stay.

“...I’d love to,” he said eventually, flexing his fingers in lieu of nothing to fidget with. “Where’s your charging station? ...Could I move it in here?”

The paintbrush paused in its movement. “You’d want to stay here and...what, watch me paint? Stay powered on as you charge?”

Connor looked at the painting and the others littering the room for a long, long moment. “I think I’d like to,” he decided firmly. Many were blue- he didn’t think he could grow to love the color blue or even like it, really, but at least it wasn’t unnerving him- but...the overall effect was rather calming. “I...I don’t want to dream again.”

The admission felt weak. Quiet.

The paintbrush started its journey over the canvas again while its holder hummed thoughtfully. “That makes sense.” For a few moments, the soft sound of painting filled his audio processors before it stopped and he set down the brush and palette. “...Let’s go find you that charger, then. I don’t think anyone else would want to dream for a bit after what you went through.”

He followed Markus almost like a lost child, taking the time to examine the first room more even as the other android rummaged around for the charging station. He had knocked some plant over when he was freaking out, which...left something sad in his throat. Hm.

“Where is it...where...ah!” Markus made a little victory sound as he moved a huge blank canvas and pulled it out, smiling warmly at him. ( _Almost like the sun,_ he thought faintly before pushing it down. _Almost too good to be true_.) “Here you go. Let’s just...bring it over here.”

He nodded and helped Markus push it into his painting room, sitting down and sighing as he connected to a power source. His LED was a cycling blue as Markus walked back to start painting.

Blue, blue, _blue_ . Pristine and clean and _CyberLife_ blue. That didn’t matter as much as Markus’ quiet humming to a song that he didn’t bother identifying, laying silver and black and red on the canvas he was working on.

He looked nice, even with the paint streaks, he idly thought, tilting his head to watch as Markus beamed and nodded at his own work. Much different than his normal look. Better? ...He didn’t know.

Connor smiled, let the seconds tick by, and just took it all in as the night rolled on above them.

Everything was fine. His hands were temporarily free of their blue stains.

The ivy that he harbored inside of him grew ever stronger.

**Author's Note:**

> if you comment i will scream  
> hope ya liked it
> 
> i do hope i'll make more dbh fics eventually


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